Light Unbroken by Loss

The afternoon stretches out, long and hollow, in the space where a voice used to be. You move through the motions of the day, but the silence in the house is loud enough to drown out the world.

It feels as though the light itself has been extinguished, leaving you to navigate the middle hours alone. But listen — the light does not depend on the presence of another person to shine.

It was there before you met, and it remains now, unbroken by loss. There is a story of a man born blind, not because of sin, but so that the works of God might be displayed in him.

Your grief is not a punishment for loving too much; it is the canvas where the light is learning to shine in a new way. The darkness has not overcome it.

You are still that light, even in the absence.